Parent-Teacher Consultations

Parent's Evening. It fills me with dread. I know it is irrational, but it feels like an appraisal of my mothering skills (or lack of). This is what I expect them to say:

"Your son can't read because you don't do enough reading with him at home."
"Your son is so unbelievably disobedient."
"Your son cannot concentrate on anything."
"Your son is violent."
"Your son just does not listen."
.....the list is endless......

Perhaps this is because I have a vivid imagination, or perhaps it is based on behaviour that I deal with day in and day out at home, but I always expect the worst.

Usually my expectations are totally wrong and I leave the school with a sigh of relief and a spring in my step. My appraisal went well. Unfortunately there is no pay rise, but I have met all my targets. This time last year, however, I left the school in tears having been told that Toby would 'never be a writer'. I know I have written about this on here before so I won't bore you all with the sordid details again.

One year and a different teacher on, however, we hear a totally different story. Not only is Toby writing well now, but he is well exceeding his 'targets' for literacy. His actual handwriting has improved beyond belief and he is bursting with creativity and imagination. It took all my self control to stay sitting on the tiny plastic chair. I wanted to leap in the air (it is a good job I didn't, it would not have been a pretty sight) and I wanted to kiss the teacher. Somehow I managed to squeak out a thank you but that felt so inadequate for what he had achieved. It is his teaching that has inspired Toby and motivated him to learn and write. It is his style of teaching, noticeably different to others, that Toby has responded to. I am so grateful that I almost went beyond Parent - Teacher etiquette. Perhaps I will save that for the end of the year.

So my appraisal this term seemed to go well. So far they have not set the school on fire, pooed in the sinks of the girls toilets, been rude to the teachers, set off the fire alarm, strangled another child (that was last year...), made papier mache with spit and fired it at the back of the teacher's head or given anyone a chinese burn. I can breathe a sigh of relief until the next time.